Luyện nghe bài hát Sad Millionaire

Can I do my

*(Yukmouth)*

on it.

*(Brownstone)*

Oh, oh, ohhh.
Oh, oh, ohh, hey.

1 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
Niggaz be havin the fuckin blues,
5-0-5's
I lie,
homicide,
will cry,
pray for me I won't die,
suicide,
I try,
fly,
drive-by,
let it slide, do or die,
you an I, by,
catch niggaz off my side,
wit to hide body die rot,
on porch,
when I some sort of drive-by,
retaliation,
under I lace, MOBBulation,
begin breakin down the situation,
when, the end of our frustration,
so while we down the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the is waitin to umm,
on yo vehicle,
run yo vehicle,
if they have to gun down yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
they be the Rosco Bico train,
swervin in an lanes,
runnin O-H-A,
what they away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
mutha fucka wanna peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

Millionaire!
Dreams of big play.
Ever a sad millionaire?
I thought that money us happy.

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a playa on the block,
that a mac daddy, drivin a black couldn't stop,
hella happy,
niggaz slangin all my rocks,
point yo at me,
I don't know uzis to yo knot,
fo wit the big shot,
I was juss droppin g bannos on the ground,
be down,
one of my shit, an get shot,
only the baddest jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for bitches out who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
brand new hundred billz, an a choppa,
where niggaz fo real, like Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
I be high like phone doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, Frank Sinatra,
Smoke-A-Lot be the MOBBsta, who ya,
like Blanca,
back in the end juss to haunt ya,
plus I twist a Benz Big Poppa,
the big proper use,
go get yo bread an do what ya to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You niggaz juss a monsta,
a type, I smoke gonga,
in the Bahammas,
fuckin yo mama,
(whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,
man,
who wow "Bout it, it",
niggaz be claimin be the Ice Cream Man,
but I it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the paper chasin it,
sky up out the ugly four day la-la-by yo like a ballot,
blunts, an crunchin weed, sex,
fresh drug rehabs,
spend two g's at every I be at,
that, BITCH!!
Ya is Smoke-A-Lot,
bitches by the throat-a-lot,
that's ya told the cops,
I the glock,
aim it an fire,
another nigga,
nameless,
is fo hire,
desire fire,
light as I'm a her,
we're so "potnaz", fuck 'em,
an dust em off wit a choppa, I rush 'em,
bust 'em,
too skinny I trust 'em,
an when the mutha fuckaz got meal tickets you might to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth talking chorus)*

Have all this fuckin money, an still ain't happy. Nigga, got
problems wit stress, mutha fuckaz juss you got it made, they try
to rob you an shit, yo own potnaz in the juss wanna love you. Fuck
money, I wish I didn't have it, 'cause when I have it it was all
good, niggaz loved me when I was drinkin brew an shit at the store.
Now ya got money everybody wanna kill me, nigga, ya own wanna
do you, skanless boy, is Nine Skrillion, make a million bucks.
Millionaire.